ANYONE who has traveled extensively has had an opportunity in some of the ocean voyages to witness the seasickness of animals, and many queer stories are told from time to time of their actions at such times—how lions become un-kinglike, monkeys ape humanity, and dogs are especially woeful—and one realizes that human beings are not the only ones that suffer from seasickness, by any means.

One hears a good deal about pangs that have filled the men and women with woe, but little is said of the menageries brought to America every year, or carried hither and yon in wave-tossed boats.

Lions and tigers may be majestic when they have unwavering earth or rock against their paws, but a seasick cat of these tribes is as forlorn as any man ever was, and doesn't look a bit more kingly than a wet rabbit. Even its roars and growls have a weeping sound in them, quite in keeping with the general appearance of the beast.

A monkey is as pitiable an object when it is seasick as any other beast so stricken, and its forlorn facial expression is so humanlike and the way it clasps its paws across its stomach is so natural that the man who is not seasick necessarily sees something to laugh at in the misery of the creature. Not so with the seasick man. If he sees a seasick monkey he is sure to get very angry, thinking the poor thing is mocking him.

It takes a dog to be woeful at sea. It has a way of doubling all up, with its tail between its legs and its head hanging down that shows a deep-seated pain. To free itself the dog goes through all sorts of contortions. It will stretch out on the deck, groan and whine, sometimes rising on its haunches and lifting its head and howling long and miserably, as some dogs do at the sound of music.

Many other animals show signs of great distress when on the water in rough weather, and any animal that is thoroughly seasick will show almost human signs of distress and appeal for sympathy, yet one can scarcely help laughing at their actions, even in the face of their evident suffering.